I. Dawn: Waiting Room, Amtrak Station, Route 128
Balance, of a sort: the light, outside and in
the station - one, indifferent, rosy, pale.
A sense of community as travellers, frail
at the glass, gaze out at the world within.
II. View from the train, Providence, R.I.
Along the roadbed, glint of can and bottle,
green and pale blowing of newsprint: Providence.
A chalk white dome looms beyond the fence
that keeps the trash. The light is windwashed, mortal.
III. Seeing an old friend on the train
She plus her baggage only filled one seat.
I took the other. We spoke. Her small brown hands
with large blue veins, rested. . . . She understands
something I don't, and she is more complete.
IV. On arrival
End of the line. All change. I leave on board
schedules, newspapers, detritus of routine,
and take the freeway home, towards the pristine
familiar flux of love, ground of this word.